Chapter 158: The Surveillance Judgment Outside the Exam Hall

Sunlight warmed the Cloth Bundle on his shoulder as Zhao Jianguo kept marching straight for the exam site gate; the road bustled with parents escorting examinees and groups of students, and he walked with his head down, yet his heart felt like a heavy weight—he had recovered the admission ticket, but the lingering gloom still pressed his chest.

Outside the exam hall, the crowd was packed tight. Examinees queued to verify identity and pass the threshold while proctors checked each person at the doorway. Zhao Jianguo stood at the edge for a while, then suddenly pulled a palm‑sized black box from his coat and pressed it lightly.

The plastered bricks on the wall suddenly lit up as if a light had been shone on them, and everyone froze when the image appeared.

First a pitch‑black corridor, then the camera panned into a room. The old cabinet by the west wall and the pickle jar in the corner were clearly visible. Then Jia Zhangshi's figure appeared, squatting before the jar, reaching in, and pulling out a damp stack of papers—the very admission tickets.

The crowd buzzed and erupted.

"Isn't that the old Jia family's lady?"

"Why did she hide this thing in the pickle jar? It's moldy—how can anyone use it?"

"My god, the lifelines of over three hundred children, and they just soak it up like that?"

Voices surged like a tide. Some pointed at the wall image, mouths agape; a parent shouted, "You're trying to ruin the children's futures!" A bespectacled proctor frowned, stepped forward and blocked Zhao Jianguo, "Comrade Xiao Zhao, what are you doing? Broadcasting someone's family matters publicly? That's inappropriate."

Zhao Jianguo neither fled nor argued, just lifted the Projection higher and said, "You're right, filming people privately is indeed improper. But if I don't release it, tomorrow someone might still stuff the application forms into the stove and burn them, and we'd all be left with a joke."

He paused, his voice low but each word landed in every ear: "These papers aren't waste; they're the math problems children stayed up all night to memorize, corrected, and couldn't solve—each a chance piled together. She's moving not a sheet but the hearts of three hundred people."

Finishing, he raised his hand and pointed at the lined‑up children: "Their lives shouldn't be decided by a jar of pickles. I can pull them out today; what about tomorrow? What if no one sees?"

The words fell, and the surroundings quieted for a few seconds. Then someone whispered, "Well said," and another nodded, "We can't just let this go."

The wall replay continued: Jia Zhangshi slipped into the room at midnight, hesitated by the canvas bag, then seized the moment while someone turned over to snatch the tickets. The motion was clear, the timing precise, even the slight shoulder tremor when she withdrew her hand was captured.

At that moment, a stir rose from the back of the crowd.

Jia Zhangshi, having arrived unnoticed, squeezed into the throng, her face ashen. She had intended to sneak a look at her son's entry, but instantly saw herself displayed on the wall. She swayed, clutched her chest, lips trembling, unable to speak.

"Mom!" a shout burst from the crowd.

Jia Dongxu pushed through the human wall, rushed a few steps to her side, and steadied her arm. He looked up at Zhao Jianguo, eyes blood‑shot, gritted his teeth and roared, "Do you have to be like this?"

Zhao Jianguo gave no answer, did not retreat, and silently put the Projection away.

Leaning on her son, Jia Zhangshi's breathing grew rapid, sweat beaded her forehead, and she collapsed. Jia Dongxu quickly fished a small medicine bottle from his pocket, poured out two pills, forced them into her mouth, patted her back and shouted, "Who brought water? Give her some water, quick!"

Someone handed over an enamel jar; Jia Dongxu gave her a sip, then turned to Zhao Jianguo and snarled, "She's your elder; you're forcing her like this—aren't you afraid of retribution?"

Zhao Jianguo stared at the mother‑son pair, silent. He knew the argument was futile and unworthy of debate. He acted not out of anger but to make everyone understand—Rules Sign cannot be broken casually, nor can hearts be hurt carelessly.

Yet the scene before him still weighed heavily on his heart.

He stepped back half a pace, yielding space, and said simply, "Has a doctor been called?"

"Someone's already shouted for one!" a nearby aunt replied.

Jia Zhangshi leaned into her son's arms, eyes closed, lips still trembling. Jia Dongxu held her, his grip on the bottle tight, knuckles bluish. He no longer looked at Zhao Jianguo, nor shouted, just bowed his head and repeatedly patted his mother's back.

The proctor stood aside, glanced at his watch, then at Zhao Jianguo: "What you did… has a bad impact. But I understand the point you're making."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "I get it, private grudges shouldn't disrupt exam order. But today's matter has long ceased to be just between my family and hers."

The teacher said nothing more, sighed, turned toward the gate, and before leaving tossed out, "During the exam, stop the commotion. The children need to answer calmly."

The crowd gradually dispersed, the line moved on. Examinees passed one by one, heads down, speaking little; the atmosphere was far more solemn than before. A little girl glanced at Zhao Jianguo, whispered, "Thank you, Teacher Zhao."

He gave her a brief smile, offering no reply.

The sun rose overhead, scorching the ground. Zhao Jianguo stood still, clutching the black box, the Cloth Bundle still slung on his shoulder. He watched the exam entrance as child after child entered, backs upright and straight.

Jia Dongxu helped his mother onto a temporary stretcher; health workers carried her toward the Street Entrance. As they passed Zhao Jianguo, Jia Dongxu's steps faltered, he didn't look up or speak, only gave a gentle nod.

Zhao Jianguo returned the nod.

The stretcher moved away, the crowd fell quiet. Wind rustled through the treetops, lifting a few paper scraps that twirled down.

He lowered his head to inspect the Cloth Bundle; the zipper was intact, the numbering orderly. Three hundred admission tickets, none missing.

A clear, crisp bell rang from afar.

Most examinees had entered; only a few tardy ones were still verifying information. The proctor stood at the doorway, waved at him, "You should get ready; we'll start soon."

Zhao Jianguo answered, about to move, when a voice called his name from behind.

He turned.

It was Jia Zhangshi's voice.

She had woken at an unknown moment, lying on the stretcher, propping herself up, face still pale but eyes changed. She looked at him, moved her lips, and finally said, "The admission tickets… I hid them."

The surrounding people fell silent.

She breathed out, voice weak yet clear, "I didn't want Sha Zhuzi to go too far… but I shouldn't have taken others' chances to cover my own fear."

After speaking, she tilted her head and lay back down, closing her eyes.

The stretcher was lifted and carried away slowly.

Zhao Jianguo stood still, neither moving nor chasing to say anything. He knew some words were enough as they were.

He turned and walked toward the exam hall gate.

Sunlight fell on his shoulder, the Cloth Bundle heavy.

Reaching the doorway, the proctor reached out and stopped him, "During the exam, please focus on the paper."

He nodded, "Understood."

The teacher stepped aside.

He stepped over the threshold; as his foot landed, a sudden warmth surged in his chest, as if something lightly vibrated.

He halted, reached into his pocket.

A faintly glowing card rested in his palm, bearing three words: Mental Arithmetic Technique.

Before he could read it clearly, the bell rang again, and the Iron Gate "Clang" shut.